


walking backwards before moving forward

by HiddenEye



Category: Black Widow (Comics), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Everyone Is Alive, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Post-Endgame, Recovered Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:08:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25491382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenEye/pseuds/HiddenEye
Summary: But, he’s seen the fondness in Steve’s look when Natasha makes fun of him. It’s—It’s endearing, really. He doesn’t know why, but it is, and he only watches the way Natasha aims the same teasing look at Bucky.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 12
Kudos: 96





	walking backwards before moving forward

**Author's Note:**

> This is all very self-indulgent, and this had been in my WIPs for a while before I managed to pick it up again weeks later.
> 
> As for Natasha’s backstory, I was really interested in how she‘s actually older than she looks in the comics, and how she’s been surviving through the decades with her organisers on her neck until they don’t. So I adopted that part into this fic. 
> 
> The italics in conversations are when they’re speaking Russian. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this!

Bucky watches.

He watches, as Steve blinks back on the platform in that white and red suit, the briefcase is swinging in his hand as he rightens back his balance. It’s empty now, the infinity stones put back to where they’re supposed to be. Everyone hopes all those powerful stones stay where they are and never be used again, good intentions or otherwise. 

And then, there’s Natasha.

She’s clinging onto Steve like her life depends on it. Maybe it does, it did, as Steve brings her back to the living after he tells Bucky that he would.

 _She died for them_ , Steve says before he leaves for her, the night after the battle, after Bucky stares at the dark forest and how much five years changed the world. There are new crow feet on Steve’s face from where the moon glows on him, and they weigh him down like anchors. _She died for them,_ he says again, and he’s getting her back.

When Bucky looks at him properly, Steve has his knuckles white from how he’s clutching the ledge, threatening to splinter under his grip. His shoulders are pushed to his ears, bunched up and full of new determination, and he might as well break himself from inside out from how strung he is. 

Bucky has to rest his hand on those pale knuckles, and Steve diffuses like a balloon under the touch, shoulders sinking down before he hangs his head between them. It’s obvious she means a lot to Steve, how she’s been his anchor throughout the years she’s been working with him, even when Bucky has been the Winter Soldier. Steve is devastated to lose her as much as Sam is. Bucky’s seen the morose look they’ve exchanged once they’ve cleaned up, how tightly they hug each other. 

But, this. This is something else. 

And so, Bucky watches.

He watches how Steve has his arm around her waist, how tightly he holds onto her as if he’s afraid she’ll disappear again before his eyes. It’s the same gesture Bucky is intimately familiar with when Steve trudges through the destroyed Avengers Compound to pull him towards his body, clutching onto Bucky with desperate hands. Bucky remembers how he shudders against him, breath alarmingly ragged, smelling the soot and blood on this man, and he holds onto him just as tightly.

There’s a wild look in those bright blue eyes now, how wide his grin is as both him and Natasha heave in gulps of air, as if they’ve just gone through an army to come back where they are. She has her forehead nestled against the junction between his neck and shoulder, but she huffs out a breath of chuckles, relieved.

Bucky watches as Steve looks down at her, and his face softens significantly that it tugs something deep in Bucky’s chest when he realises what that means.

He’s seen that look being aimed at him before, after all. Of course Bucky would find it familiar.

And then, Bruce and Sam exclaim out of their shock, clambering towards the two people who they thought wouldn’t come back. Steve and Natasha exceed the five second mark, and at the tenth mark, all of them are starting to panic before they make an appearance.

Something unclenches deep in Bucky’s sternum at the obvious scene that both of them are not leaving. That they’re _staying_. He almost feels guilty at this, but relief is such a palpable thing to feel and he lets it burst inside him.

Sam flings himself at Natasha before she gets to walk off the platform, hugging her tight that she laughs out loud at the impact, eyes glossy with emotions as she holds onto him just as tight, before she hides her face into his neck.

Bucky watches as Steve looks at them with a soft smile on his lips. He watches as Steve directs that same expression to where Bucky stands some feet away from them, and he has to remind himself not to hold his breath when that gaze catches his.

Something hardens with resolution in that look, something that has Bucky digging his heels into the earth underneath him to prevent himself from moving as Steve strides over to where he is, and he looks like a man on a mission. Air gushes out of his pursed lips when Bucky is wrenched towards Steve, almost losing his centre when strong arms wrap themselves around him. 

It has something unraveling underneath his ribs that causes Bucky to reply with the same kind of need, hanging onto Steve’s shoulders as he lets out a stuttering breath.

“I thought—” Bucky swallows thickly, digging his nails into his shoulders. “I thought you wouldn’t come back.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Steve mumbles out against his shoulder, holding onto him tighter. “I’ve been wanting you with me for so long. Why would I leave you now that you’re here with me again?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” Bucky smoothes down the dents he’s made on the suit, rubbing his palms up until they rest against the short hairs of his nape. “You didn’t come back sooner than we thought, and I just— I didn’t know what to think—“

“No, Buck,” Steve leans back then, just enough for Bucky to see how full of adoration Steve has for him, swirling deep and true. “I came back for you. I’ll always come back for you.”

It should have been obvious. Steve has done so much in making sure Bucky knows his worth, putting himself on the line by refusing everything that is to make no one touch Bucky. Now that he’s here again, Steve doesn’t want to let go, will not have anyone take Bucky from him again.

Bucky holds onto him now, doesn’t move away when Steve cups his cheek with one large hand that the heat of it seeps into his skin. Bucky leans into him, into his touch when Steve rests his forehead against his.

* * *

Bucky can’t help but watch Natasha a little closely now.

It’s curiosity, because there’s familiarity niggling in his memory and his heart but he doesn’t know what it is. When he reaches for it, it flees away, as if it knows he’s trying to prod into its essence with knowing hands and refuses him access. He doesn’t know, that’s the thing, and he wants to find out.

She refuses medical attention when asked on the first day she gets back, even if her legs are a bit shaky that has both Steve and Sam walking on either side of her. She doesn’t lean into them, but she does have her hands hooked onto their elbows, and they’re both more than happy to have her beside them again.

They’ve gotten close, the three of them; Bucky first sees this when Steve video calls him during one of those days where they’ve been on the run. They’re in a motel room, just finished that day’s mission that their hair is all wet from the shower. It’s nighttime then. However, on Bucky’s side, it’s late morning, and he’s just finished feeding the goats and is sitting down under the tree when his beads start beeping around his wrist.

They seem relaxed, both Sam and Natasha greeting him behind Steve’s shoulder that has Bucky smiling, discreetly taking a screenshot of the image as Steve tells him what they’ve been doing. They manage to go to the local market and buy some really good food after their mission; it’s delicious, Steve says, and wishes Bucky is with them to try it too.

Natasha has her chin hooked over Steve’s shoulder, her smiling turning a little sharp around the corners when she says, “He wishes you were here to satisfy his growing frustration too, by the way.”

It makes Sam let out a bark of laughter. Steve looks at her helplessly with red on his cheeks, and his beard does nothing to hide it. Natasha gives him a sweet smile in response, before pecking a kiss on his blush as if she can’t help herself. It makes Steve grumble something incoherently as he blushes some more, silently pleading at Bucky with wide blue eyes that he can’t help but snicker at him.

But, he’s seen the fondness in Steve’s look when Natasha makes fun of him. It’s—

It’s _endearing_ , really. He doesn’t know why, but it is, and he only watches the way Natasha aims the same teasing look at Bucky.

It’s happening again _now_ , the way Steve and Natasha are interacting with each other.

A couple of weeks after the battle with Thanos, Steve and Bucky manage to snag an empty house somewhere in Indiana, away from the city and its blustering noises as everything tries to accommodate the people who got back again. They have a long stretch of land for themselves, and there’s a pond behind the house that is quite accepting for them to swim in. 

Their friends help them in settling in; it’s cleaning and buying, and moving in, in general, hauling furniture inside the house as Bucky tells them where to put it. Then, after everything is where it is, they have a feast. It’s barbecuing at the front lawn, and as Bucky flips burgers with a spatula, he’s already ticking off items to buy for his new garden.

He’s so used to working outside with his goats back at Wakanda. He knows that will calm him down when something heavy and jittery starts to press on his consciousness, and planting a few things for him to grow for the house sounds tempting.

There are hands on his hips, and Bucky leans back into the plane of warmth as lips find themselves onto his jaw. “Have you eaten?”

“‘Been busy serving everyone else,” Steve replies, a hulking weight behind his back as he sprawls himself against him like a cat. Bucky doesn’t mind, though. “I’ll eat with you. You’ve been cooking for everyone else that you haven’t had the chance to take a bite yourself.”

Bucky hums, patting Steve’s hand with his free one. “Alright. I’ll join you later.”

Steve nods. Suddenly, he tenses just a little bit. Anyone else wouldn’t have noticed, but Steve is a furnace pressed onto the line of his back and Bucky’s able to feel how he’s trying to say something.

Bucky takes the cooked burgers off the grill first, before putting raw patties on it again. “What’s wrong, Steve?”

“Nothing,” Steve says, his hand subconsciously rubbing against his hip. 

“Doesn’t sound like nothing,” Bucky tells him, craning his head to meet his eye. “You alright?”

“Yeah.” Steve gives him a wane smile. Then, he takes a small breath, as if steeling himself. “I was hoping to ask you something, though.”

Bucky nods, turning back to his burgers. “Ask away.”

Steve gnaws away his thoughts in the hesitation taking place, and it makes Bucky furrow his eyebrows, until Steve says, “Nat’s looking for a place to stay for the moment, since she’s waiting for her apartment to go through some clearance before moving in. She hasn’t decided where to sleep tonight, and I was thinking we’d offer her the spare room for now.”

Bucky lets out a small chuckle, relaxing a bit. “That’s all? You were so tense, I thought you were gonna ask me something else, like running away after all the work we did here.”

“What? No, no,” Steve laughs with him, as relieved as Bucky is, hugging his waist to give him a squeeze. “I just thought you’d be uncomfortable with having someone else in your new home, and you’d wanna have some alone time with it first. That’s why I’m asking you about this.”

Bucky flips the burgers and turns around in his grip. He gives Steve a smile. “I’m not gonna chase away one of your friends if they wanna stay here, Steve.”

“I know, it’s just, I want you to be comfortable first. I know everyone else would offer her their place but,” Steve shrugs, slotting his fingers together on the dip of Bucky’s back. “Our place is still damn big just for the two of us.”

“Because we know someone would crash here if they want to,” Bucky pokes his chest with a finger, eyebrows raised. “Like right now.”

“Yeah.” Steve searches his face, something hopeful and bright on his own. “So, you’re okay with it?”

“Sure, why not?” Bucky reaches back to flip the burgers again. “We have another extra room even if she does decide to stay. I don’t mind, Steve.” He looks back at him, softening his look. “Really.”

As if summoned, Natasha pops up beside them with an empty plate, eyes roving over the burgers and toasted buns. “You two really know how to treat a guest.”

“Something we weren’t able to do in the 30’s,” Steve beams at her, resting his cheek on Bucky’s shoulder as he turns back around to man the grill. “Buck’s a natural. It’s like his Ma’s spirit possessed him and decided it’s his time to serve more than ten people when there’s only six of us.”

“My Ma would absolutely deny that, God bless her soul,” Bucky retorts, huffing out a breath. “It’s better to have extras than to have everything finished up early. At least you’ll be able to keep those extras in the fridge now.”

“That’s true,” Natasha nods, offering him her plate that Bucky drops a patty onto it.

“You’re welcomed to stay in our house, by the way,” Steve says. He grins when she snaps her eyes at him. “While you wait for your apartment. It’s gonna take, what, a few days?”

“A week, to be exact.” She wrinkles her nose a little, scooping the toasted buns onto her plate with a pair of tongs. It’s almost as if she’s ignoring his first sentence. “They’re taking a little longer than I hoped, but there’s not much I can do until then.”

She starts assembling her burger with some bacon, lettuce, and a slice of tomato, topping it all off with some ketchup. Bucky watches from the corner of his eye when she tries to balance the top bun on top of it all, while he serves the last of the cooked patties on its required plate. “Is that a yes?”

When Natasha looks at him, two fingers pressing onto the top bun, it looks as if she hasn’t expected him to ask her that question. She doesn’t show it outright, but from the way she carefully meets his eyes says something about it. Then, she drags them to Steve, who Bucky knows is waiting for her expectantly from where he’s perched on his shoulder. “I thought I said I’d take care of it, Rogers.”

“We literally have extra rooms, Romanoff,” Steve shoots back. “And Bucky’s okay with it, I asked him just now.” He tightens his grip onto Bucky’s waist, no doubt cranking up his puppy dog look that’s reaching out to her in waves. “C’mon, Nat.”

Bucky watches, and it seems Natasha’s as bad as he is when it comes to those Big Blue Eyes that she slightly deflates in their presence. It just shows how much she trusts _them,_ and not just Steve. She can stay in their house, but that doesn’t mean she has to bare everything to Bucky even though Steve’s more likely she’s comfortable with.

Bucky doesn’t know what to do with this, but welcomes the warm feeling flickering inside him.

“Fine,” she concedes softly, picking up her plate. “I’ll bring some clothes tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Steve frowns. “Where are you gonna sleep tonight?”

“Clint offered me his house for tonight,” she assures him, reaching forward to brush away a strand of hair from his forehead. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

They both watch her go, where she’s settled herself on the empty chair beside Sam as she joins the group. Bucky squeezes the hands holding him before stepping out of them. “Guess she’s staying.”

“Yeah.”

There’s something in Steve’s voice that makes Bucky look up from where he’s making burgers for them both. Steve is still staring at Natasha, who’s taking a bite of her meal as she nods to whatever it is that Wanda is talking about. 

Under the lights, there’s longing on him, and Steve might as well reach out for her with his arms opened wide.

Bucky wipes his hands with a kitchen towel, stepping closer that Steve whips his head towards him. “Hey,” Bucky calls out quietly, holding out his hand. “You okay?”

Steve takes it and brings it to his mouth to kiss into his palm. “Very. You’re here, she’s here. Everyone else is back,” he shakes his head minutely, as if the disbelief from before hasn’t yet left. “Five years,” he whispers. “Nat and I waited for you for five years.”

Bucky watches, as Steve gazes at him with residual pain still lingering at the corner of his eyes, threatening to spill onto the faint lines that sit out at the corner of them. 

For _him_ , Steve says. As if it really is just him he’s talking about instead of their whole team. And perhaps it is, even if Steve misses the rest of his friends.

But he brings in _Natasha_ with him, as if the two of them have actually talked about it during those years Bucky’s been scarce. When they thought him _dead_ , and not just once; when he got blown away by the wind on Wakanda land, right in front of his eyes.

Bucky won't be surprised if they seeked solace from each other. Not when Steve looks at her as if he’s keeping her in the space of his big, big heart and making her residence there. Not when Bucky’s seen how tight Natasha holds onto Steve with all her strength, almost not wanting to let go.

With the kind of history Bucky goes through, he can’t make himself promise that he’ll actually survive through the next of his very long life. But, he has to _try_ , dammit, for Steve. It’s always, and undoubtedly, for Steve.

And if Natasha is going to be the one catching Steve from sinking into his own doom, then Bucky would let her.

“Come on,” Bucky reaches for their plates and hands one to Steve. “Let’s chow down. You’re probably starving.”

“God, I miss your burgers,” Steve brings the burger under his nose and inhales deeply, lashes fluttering close as he blindly follows Bucky. “S’so damn good.”

Bucky snorts, catching their friends’ attention once they’re near enough. “One day, I’m gonna wrangle you into our new squeaky clean kitchen and make you learn how to caramelise onions, _at least_.”

“Deal,” Steve mumbles out through a mouthful of burger, plopping down on one of the lawn chairs.

* * *

When Natasha stands at their doorstep the next morning, she has her luggage by her feet, large sunglasses perched on the bridge of her nose with a cup of Starbucks in hand. Cappuccino, Bucky realises, the sharp whiff of it smacking him in the nose.

“Natalia,” Bucky greets, and he’s surprised at how easy the name forms in his mouth, because none of the people they know have called her that. 

She knows this, it says so in the way she cocks her head to the side. “James,” she says back, and he can feel the way she fleetingly takes in his undershirt and cotton pants. “Am I too early?”

“Not really,” he replies. He studies her in return, but the sunglasses don't give her away as much as he likes. He knows it shouldn’t irk him so much now that the buffer of Steve being between them is missing. She’s an assassin too, he should know how it all works. Instead, he steps aside to let her in. “We’re about to make breakfast, actually. Steve’s in the shower.”

“Back from his run?” Natasha guesses, pulling onto her luggage that it wheels in after her.

“Yeah.” Bucky closes the door behind him once she stands near the stairs, her head tilting to where she might hear the shower running.

She gives him a small wry smile. “He told me he was gonna stop.”

Bucky huffs out a chuckle, mimicking her expression. “He hates it. But, it helps, and then he’s out at crack ass of dawn and running thirty miles per hour before I can stop him.”

“He’s been saying that for the past five years. I’ve been telling him to find another outlet.” She shrugs lightly, pushing the sunglasses to the top of her head, and then he’s able to see the same daunting look that’s etched on Steve’s face make an appearance on hers too. “But, you know how he is.”

“Too well,” he murmurs, and she nods. They’re talking about Steve in the hallway even if they know he doesn’t like it; a bit hypocritical, that Steve, not letting other people take care of him when he clearly needs it, when he’s done the same thing to everyone else, Bucky included. It’s going to drive him insane one day. “Do you wanna see your room?”

She nods. “Lead the way.”

Her room is just opposite theirs, where they’ve already put on the sheets on her bed and fluffed up her pillows. Steve has muttered something about Natasha liking her bed flooding with them and brought out a few extras from the wardrobe. She seems to appreciate it, running her fingers over one of them before she lets her luggage sit at one corner first.

When they’ve gone downstairs, Bucky starts beating the eggs in a bowl for his scrambled eggs, and Steve’s walking into the kitchen with a grin stretched on his face. “I thought I heard extra voices.”

“Are you sure that’s not in your head?” Natasha drolls out, allowing herself to be pulled into the tight hug Steve traps her in. She rubs his shoulders, amused. “Hey there, tough guy.”

“Hey,” Steve replies almost breathlessly, pulling back. “Sorry,” He laughs a bit, running a hand over his damp hair. “It’s just great to see you, s’all.”

“I’m not going anywhere now,” She pulls herself onto one of the stools, feet hanging above the floor. “You’re stuck with me for the week.”

“I guess so,” Steve is still grinning, moving around the kitchen island to help Bucky with the sausages as he switches on the other stove. 

Bucky listens to their banter as he continues to cook. It’s nice, he thinks, especially when she jabs at Steve that has him replying in the same kind of taunt. She helps them pour some coffee into their mugs as they serve the food, toasting their bread in the fancy four-slot toaster they’ve gotten as a gift. They sit down, and they dig in.

“Now that you’re giving Sam the shield,” she begins once they’re cleaning up, leaning back with one foot on the stool. Steve insists that she doesn’t do anything then, and she allows it to happen as she watches them move around the kitchen. “I’m guessing you’re gonna make a press conference later. Make it official.”

“Yeah,” Steve replies, taking the wet plate from Bucky. Both of them steadily ignore the dishwasher by their legs as Steve starts wiping it dry. “Sam’s still trying to wrap his mind over it, and I’ve been having fun seeing him gawk over the whole thing.”

“It does look good on him,” Natasha agrees, smiling as she takes a sip from her Starbucks cup. “And can you blame him, really?”

“No,” Steve says quietly, and when Bucky glances at him, he’s thumbing the last of the wet spot before stacking the plate with the others. “I don’t.”

Something settles the three of them as Bucky keeps the plates and utensils back into their places, while Steve joins Natasha by the island with a bowl of grapes. He sets it down, and reaches for his own cup of coffee.

“What are you going to do now?” She asks, holding his gaze. “Now that Steve Rogers is no longer Captain America, what’s his goal after this? I know for the fact you have too many damn ants in your pants to actually sit still and do nothing.”

Bucky snorts, grinning at the miffed look Steve shoots at him as Bucky sits down with them. “She’s right, Stevie. You got a month to do absolutely fuck-knows what before you’re itching to punch somebody.”

“We have a gym in our house,” Steve humphs, chugging half of his beverage as Bucky catches the amusement glinting in Natasha’s eye across the table. Steve almost slams down his mug. “I can exert myself there.”

Bucky cocks an eyebrow up. “Will you?”

“Yes.” Steve answers tersely.

“That’s not the same as kicking human asses,” Bucky points out, plucking a couple of grapes from the bowl. He pops them into his mouth. “Or aliens. Or whatever’s going to happen these days.”

Steve sighs through his nose, rubbing the mug handle with his thumb. “I don’t know. For now, I’m gonna go stand in front of the world and tell them I’m resigning. Whatever happens after that,” He waves his hand flippantly. “Just happens. We’ll wait and see.”

Bucky reaches over and squeezes his wrist in assurance. “Gonna wear the suit one last time, huh?”

“The last time I wore that suit was when Thanos had all intent on giving us hell the other day,” Steve shakes his head slightly. “I’m done. Sam’s gonna take that up later.”

“I heard Tony’s already making one for him,” Natasha reaches over for some grapes too. “He’s halfway through it, actually. Pepper wasn’t too happy to see him working again.”

“The man just held a glove with stones that could kill the universe,” Bucky says wryly. “And almost died from it. I’d lose my hair too if I catch this fool started walking around too soon.”

“Hey,” Steve protests. “I wouldn’t do that.”

Both Bucky and Natasha give him identical looks of incredulity that Steve actually shrinks back from them. However, he takes a handful of those grapes and shoves some into his mouth. “‘Sides,” he adds around the fruit. “I heal faster than he does. And it’s been weeks now, so hypothetically, I would’ve been fine.”

“Hypothetically,” Natasha parrots airily.

“If Wilson was here, he’d agree with me,” Bucky tells him, causing Steve to roll his eyes.

“I don’t need the three of you ganging up on me.”

“If it’s gonna make you stay down when you’re supposed to, then we will.” Bucky narrows his eyes. “All it took me was to sit on you when you had that crazy look in your eye back when you wanted to get your fists dirty with some punk’s blood. There’s not much of a difference when I have two other people who can help me.”

“Jesus, Steve,” Natasha smirks. “Is that what it took? Should’ve done that earlier, then.”

“Shut up,” Steve says, matter-of-fact, but he’s smiling, and that’s what Bucky wants to see.

* * *

It’s two days later that Steve decides to make the public announcement.

The room is full of people, their cameras flashing bright when he walks up to the podium with questions being thrown at his way. Fury’s people act as a barrier between him and the crowd, and from where Bucky stands with the rest of them at the side of the stage, Steve looks devastatingly handsome in the black uniform Pepper has given him to wear. It’s almost like the standard SHIELD uniform, but the seams are duplicated from his old Captain America one; where the white star used to be is now just a whole chest of black kevlar.

Steve has taken to growing back his beard, and it’s different from the time when he visits Bucky in Wakanda; the lines on his face are softer, the knowledge of having to rest for the next of his life sits in place where exhaustion and worry used to be. And when Steve talks about putting down the shield, his shoulders straighten to the familiar posture of professionalism; he says it as a finalty that rings throughout the room.

The people shout out questions and set off more flashes with mics jutted out like spears. It makes Bucky eye one far too enthusiastic reporter who’s been blocked by one of Fury’s men, his arm stretched out with a hand clutching around a mic when he practically yells out, “You’re retiring during the times when we need you most, Captain America. Surely, this could’ve be done after all of the clean-up would be over?”

Bucky stills, and the whole room engulfs in silence as they all wait for Steve’s reply. The only thing that can be heard is the occasional flash, or the humming that seems to settle on top of their heads. Bucky distinctively notices the way his arm whirs under the tension, before he feels a hand on the crook of his elbow that makes him look down.

Red nail polish gleams back at him. “We know this would happen,” Natasha murmurs, and she’s watching the reporter too. “Let him answer it out.”

“I’m not doubting him,” Bucky replies just as softly, dragging his eyes to her face. She has her hair tied into a bun. “It’s them I can’t stand. Always has been.”

“I know, James,” she says, and then he’s looking back at dark pools of green. “You always did hate it when someone questioned Steve after he decided he was going to do something for himself. But, people don’t know him as much as you did. They tend to demand more than what they should have.”

“Despite my retirement, I’ll be doing all I can to help the people get back to their feet,” Steve interrupts before Bucky can say anything. He looks up, and sees Steve holding the reporter’s eager gaze. “I know how everything is looking right now, and I know what you may think of me when I’m putting down the mantle at this time. But, there are other ways to make sure everyone gets what’s best for them than throwing myself in endless wars. Better ways, in fact.”

“With that said, I’ll be cooperating with Pepper Potts in making donations to small facilities and housing areas that need them. We’re doing our best in getting to them as soon as we can. And,” Steve smiles at this, something wry tugging at the corner of his lips. “If it’s any consolation to you, Captain America is not retiring. I am.”

A wave of surprise travels through the crowd, cut off by the reporter when he asks, “I think I speak for everyone when I say we’re all dying to know who would be taking your place as Captain America, Mr. Rogers.”

The diversion worked; they readily accepted that someone else would swing the shield to take out the bad guys that still lurk around the country. Bucky scoffs under his breath; this just hits the nail head on with how people only care about the stars and stripes rather than the person underneath.

Natasha squeezes his arm, mockingly arching her eyebrows when Bucky glances at her.

Steve lets his smile grow into something more crooked, the glint in his eye apparent that has everyone snapping their backs into attention. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

It’s not the right answer, because everyone goes wild as cameras go off again. But Steve, the bastard, pays them no mind when he leaves the stage with a careless wave of his hand. Bucky is able to see that same grin under that animal growing on his face as Steve walks towards their way. 

“Well,” Steve begins brightly, sliding over to Bucky’s other side to drape his arm over his shoulders. “I think that went well.”

“Of course you’d say that,” Natasha is watching the crowd getting under control before facing him. “With the mess you left.”

“All while being damn ominous too,” Bucky snickers, winding his own arm around Steve’s waist. “You’re a fucking drama queen, s’what you are. You could’ve just said it like a normal person in a room full of your greatest fans who’s been dying to have a glimpse of your ugly mug ever since everyone came back.”

“Sometimes, it’s best we let time do its course,” Steve hums. “If they’re gonna have to wait for Sam to fly over their heads and collectively lose their minds, then that’s how it’s gonna happen.”

“You’re torturing them,” Natasha says, but she’s smiling too, reaching over to flick away the strand of blond hair off his forehead.

Bucky never thought she’d be this touching sort of person, but he knows that’s not true. Somewhere deep in his mind, somewhere he’s let the memory of it stew for a very long time the moment he’s gotten hold of it, she likes touching people as much as being touched. 

He has a feeling there’s something she’s hiding from them, something as old as both Bucky and Steve are, but she hasn’t said anything about it. At least, not to Bucky. He doesn’t know whether or not Steve has any inkling of her past she’s willing to share, or if he doesn’t say anything about it and only lets her go to Bucky at her own pace.

But Bucky remembers flashes of spinning tutus; he remembers red, red, red splattered against the sharp edge of someone’s cheek painted with pink powder; he remembers red pooling under their boots as Bucky watches life being sucked out from those dead eyes, Natasha as inconspicuous as he is in their civilian clothes.

The first time he remembers her lacing up her pointe shoes is when she helps them escape Germany, a gun pointing at their way. The second time he remembers her with his hands on her bare arms, teaching her how to break a person’s elbow into another direction, she’s dyed her hair blond from where he sees her over Steve’s shoulder.

Now, she has her hand resting in the bend of his own arm, and he knows she could’ve done the same thing he’s taught her to him. But, she doesn’t. And Bucky likes the way she feels on his side while having Steve hanging onto him as if he isn’t weighing more than two hundred pounds worth of muscles.

Bucky doesn’t mind. He lets Natasha touch him and leans into Steve’s place, accepting both of their warmth.

Then, Pepper comes along, Tony right behind her with his shades on despite how dim it is behind the curtains. He has a crutch under his armpit, wearing a long sleeved shirt, but that’s all he’s covering when the skin on his face and his hand is bare for everyone to see.

“You couldn’t make it any more convoluted for them than what’s already happening,” Tony comments, wincing when he readjusts his weight to one foot. “Their classic American hero spinning their lil’ heads on a lazy susan with secrets. What kind of asshole does that?”

“My kind, apparently,” Steve answers. He looks Tony over. “Tony—“

“Ah, ah,” Tony wags his finger at him. “I know what you’re thinking. I already have something cooked up that could make me walk like a normal person without this atrocity,” He taps the floor with the crutch to make his point. A grin jumps on his face. “I’m thinking of contacting Princess Shuri on that matter. Since she did an excellent job on Buckaroo’s arm over there.”

Bucky hides his surprise when he’s suddenly being addressed, meeting Tony’s covered gaze. The last time they’ve talked to each other is back in that HYDRA filth somewhere in the middle of Siberia. Bucky knows Tony is allowed to be distant with him if he wants, with all the fuckery they’ve been unfortunately grated through. But, Tony’s here, not exactly talking to him, but including him in the conversation anyway, and something heavy lifts off his chest at that.

He knows both of them need to come to terms with apologising to the other about almost killing each other in the past, and sitting down alone in a room is no way to do it because they’re both emotionally constipated in more ways than one. But, Bucky still has to make time to have an actual _talk_ with Tony one of these days, even if it’s going to make them want to run off the opposite direction later.

Bucky offers a nod at this, and Tony tilts his head in acknowledgment before he continues with, “I’ve seen the systematics. They’re all _way_ more advanced than what I can do. Plus, I get to _play_ with their toys, which is something very few people managed to get their hands on.”

“At this point, I’ve learned that urging him in getting more rest is fruitless when he has his mind on something,” Pepper says, fond exasperation glimmering in her smile when she glances at him. “I married him, after all.”

“Come now, honey. We can’t let the old timeys get disgusted with our eternal love,” Tony tuts, but he leans forward to kiss her cheek. 

Pepper cocks up an eyebrow at him, the smile still very much enamoured, before she focuses on Steve. “If it’s alright with you, Steve, we can get started in another few days. Four of the agencies I’ve emailed to have already accepted our offer. It’s a matter of planning on when to get to them later.”

Steve nods. “Fine by me.”

“‘Think there’s some space for another person?” Natasha pipes up. “I’m interested in helping, if that’s okay.”

“Of course, Nat,” Pepper replies. “We need all the help we can get.”

Bucky watches how Natasha gets her attention stolen to the way Tony uses his fingers to scratch on his scars, his skin gnarled and red with irritation. Pepper quietly puts her own hand above his, stopping him, before pulling out a small tube of lotion from her slacks before he applies it on his skin.

Tony looks up at the silence. “Just because I was at death’s door, doesn’t mean all of you are entitled to fuss over me. That’s only Pepper’s job.”

“I went through that door,” Natasha says, and Bucky’s acutely aware of how careful her voice has become. “It’s not all blinding lights and pearly gates.”

“Ha, that’s funny,” Tony grunts as he readjusts his weight again. “You’re the only one who can’t say ‘you only live once’ now. You’re doing it the second time now. Shows how you’re _it_ , you know?”

When Natasha smiles, there’s something sharp in it. “You gotta thank Steve for that one.”

Bucky snaps his attention to Steve, who’s gone achingly quiet at his side. Steve’s looking at her with that same look Bucky sees from that other day on the compound, and he feels it in his bones at what it means when it shines bright and sure.

* * *

When Bucky stops his bike in front of the house, the only lights that are on are the ones at the porch. He’s sure the living room’s lamp is switched on too, from how it glows through their curtains, and Steve is probably up waiting for him again.

He opens the garage with a remote and brings his bike in to park beside their car. Once he locks everything up, he goes into the house quietly to avoid waking Steve up from his sleep. From past events, he’s known to be sprawled on their couch. And Bucky, fresh out of a mission, would take a minute or two to watch how peace settles on him so easily.

But tonight, there’s music calling for him from the living room. It makes Bucky tense at the sudden change of routine that he presses a hand on the gun by his hip, the other hovering near the knife strapped on his thigh. He lines his back to the wall as he inches deeper inside the house, not daring to make a single sound that could alert anyone in his living room.

When he peeks around the corner, Steve has his back to him, and he’s swaying to the soft music that’s blaring from the speakers. His phone’s connected to it, Frank Ocean’s Godspeed thrumming against their walls, and Bucky finds himself relaxing when nothing looks threatening.

And then, Steve turns to the side slightly, and Bucky’s able to see how Natasha is in his arms, moving along with him. She has her hair tumbling down in that familiar red, the bleach at the tips reaching to the middle of her shoulder blades. She’s smiling softly at Steve, and he’s looking back down at her with stars in his eyes.

Bucky makes himself scarce at first, even if he knows they most likely both know he’s spying on them. Steve’s hearing is extraordinary after all, as good as Bucky’s, and Natasha’s aware of her surroundings enough that they would’ve heard his bike making a racket outside despite the music.

Or, they're so immersed into each other that anyone would’ve sneaked until it’ll be too late.

And so, Bucky watches, relaxing against the wall with his arms crossed against his chest. He watches them dance, how Steve twirls her away and twirls her back in that it makes her laugh softly, resting her hand onto his neck. Bucky’s familiar with that; a long time ago, he knows how she feels in his hold, how her nose is pressed against his jaw.

The scene before him unlocks the memory he’s been putting on hold. Ever since Natasha moved to her own apartment a month ago, she’s been dropping by when she can. But, in her absence, his memories are pushed back down when he’s been busy watching Captain America’s six again, helping Sam and Sharon with AIM and whatever’s left of HYDRA as they take down facilities.

But now, bits of pieces come trickling back. He remembers obedient girls lined up as he walks in the studio, already posed and waiting for his orders while his organiser stands back to watch. He remembers the Red Room, how he gets to choose one girl to take under his wing and become his protégée. _Natalia_ , he once murmurs; he doesn’t even need to raise his voice, and green eyes flash at his way.

He gets to know her properly over the years, and they get to be close to the point he knows how she moves in the training room and in his bedroom. He gets to know how she tastes when he kisses her.

“You could’ve just stayed here, y’know?” Steve murmurs — it’s not hard for Bucky to listen in. “We have lots of space for another person.”

“Oh Steve, you miss me, don’t you?” Natasha smirks.

“Uh, yeah,” Steve replies, having the same tonation of _well, duh_. “Didn’t you get the hint?”

“You know I can’t just stay here,” she tells him gently, sliding her hand to his shoulder. “This is not my house, I have no ownership here. This place belongs to you and James, and I can’t disturb that.”

“He’ll welcome you,” Steve sounds so sure at this; it makes Bucky swipe a thumb over his bottom lip. “I’ve seen how Bucky looks at you. It’s familiar, like he knows you, and he wants to know more of you too.”

“Maybe he does,” she mutters, and a second new song is already playing around the room. “I can’t know that until I talk to him.”

“So talk to him. He’ll understand.”

They’ve already stopped dancing, just standing there with their hands on each other, and Bucky has his heart thundering against his chest as he watches this from his dark corner.

“Sometimes,” she begins hesitantly, and Steve squeezes her hand in encouragement. “Sometimes I’m afraid he’ll remember everything from before. I know I don’t get much of it myself, but the things they’ve done to us,” She thins her lips. “I don’t want him to remember that too.”

 _From before_. It’s of _them_ , Bucky knows, is what she’s talking about. He knows they used to work so well with each other, how they’ve made a stage of their own, and HYDRA along with the Red Room has punished them for it.

The details of how they’ve been tortured, though, escape him. Bucky counts that as a miracle.

“You still care about him,” Steve utters. “I’ve seen how you look at him, too.”

She’s scrutinising him curiously now. “And that doesn’t bother you?”

“No,” Steve replies at once. “He’s everything to me back when he was working his ass off to make sure we survive in our apartment, and he’s everything to me now, when he still thinks that fighting the bad guys is how he should repent for everything he didn’t do willingly. Sharing all of him with you?” When he smiles then, it’s adoration to the very core. “I wouldn’t mind.”

It makes Bucky breathless to hear all of that being said to another person, to someone both of them know in their very hearts. Natasha bears the burn of it all with the way her eyes widen in surprise, having every word dig deep inside of her like they did to Bucky, latching on and never letting go.

“We have to give him that choice,” she reminds him in a low voice. “He _has_ to have that choice, after everything that’s happened to him. Those five years are nothing to what you had with him—“

“You can’t compare what Bucky and I have with what you and I have,” he cuts her off. “He’s been with me for almost all his whole life. It’s not much of a difference when you’ve been with half of mine.”

The music fills in the space between them, the buffer that pushes away the ringing that threatens to take over his ears as Bucky watches Natasha hold onto Steve’s stubborn gaze that lasts longer than it should. “If James doesn’t want this,” she begins slowly. “Then I’ll leave.”

“You’re putting yourself down too early,” Steve smiles at her, and they’re swaying together again, the music something out of the timeline both he and Bucky grew up from. “You don’t have to be so hard on yourself.”

“You’re making this sound like this isn’t about his feelings,” she accuses him. “He loves you too much. Act like it.”

Steve laughs, planting a kiss on her forehead. “And I love him too much, too.”

Natasha hums, and Bucky doesn’t know what she says next when he goes back out at the garage, careful in making sure they don’t hear him. When he finds himself alone, he takes a moment to let his eyes wander over the space around him, before he strides forward and settles back on his bike.

He reaches into his jacket pocket and takes out a cigarette; he hasn’t done this in a very long time, and he doesn’t know why he’s bought a couple of them from the convenience store, but he puts the stick between his mouth and lights it up with a match.

He takes a deep breath, and breathes out the smoke.

* * *

“She means something to you.”

They’re both in the kitchen. It’s eight in the morning and Steve’s just got back from his jog. He’s sweating, pouring orange juice into his glass as Bucky watches him from the dining table with his own cup of coffee.

Steve doesn’t look at him for the first few moments as he chugs down the drink in one gulp. Then, he puts the glass back down on the counter and meets his eye. 

They have a staring contest that lasts for several more moments.

Eventually, Steve looks down at the glass he’s still holding onto. “Natasha.”

Bucky nods. “Natalia,” he confirms, and that name makes Steve jerk his head back up. “She means something to you, and you don’t know what to do about that.”

That’s a lie. Bucky has heard what both of them talked about. He damn well knows how Steve wanted both him and Natasha. 

“Does she mean anything to you?” Steve throws back the question, and it makes Bucky smile wryly. 

“She does. I just don’t know what it is exactly.” Bucky watches how Steve sucks in a quiet breath and can’t help be amused at that. “I knew her. From before.”

“Yeah,” Steve swallows, and there’s hope on his face, even though he’s trying to rein in it. “She said something about that too.”

“She’s not as young as she looks, Stevie,” Bucky says idly, leaning back in his chair as he props his socked feet on the one in front of him. “We met in the 50’s, and she looks like the dame from then as she is now.”

“She’s like us?” Steve questions, sitting down on the other empty seat. 

“Got the secondhand serum like I did,” Bucky reconciles, remembering blurry moments when she first told him that information. “Ages slowly like us. Heals somewhat like us, only slightly slower. And, is darn good at kicking some assholes.”

“You should know. You taught her how.”

Bucky looks at him properly then. “You mean something to her, too.”

Steve leans back against his chair as well. “She told me.”

“When I wasn’t here for that five years,” Bucky adds for him. “Or, it could be more than that.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t love you, Buck,” Steve winces, wringing his hands together. “It’s just—“

“You love her too.” Bucky smiles softly at him when Steve looks like an animal caught in headlights. “I figured.”

Steve takes in a shuddering breath. “Bucky—“

“I’m not mad, Steve,” Bucky assures him. “I know you can’t help yourself. You’ve got too big of a heart. And it’s Natalia. She does that to you.”

Steve looks helpless before him, as if he doesn’t know what to do then. “You sound like you know how it feels like.”

Bucky brings the cup to his lips. “Maybe I still do.”

* * *

When Bucky glances at the clock on the wall, it’s ten past eleven in the morning and the sun is still too bright on his face.

He presses his hand to his shoulder wound, gritting his teeth against the pain from where he’s been stabbed as he drags himself towards the kitchen for the first-aid kit they keep in one of the cabinets. Knowing how long Bucky’s been out on missions, sometimes he gets too tired and irritated to let the medical team have a look at him. So, he hops back on his bike and drives back home without a second glance.

It makes Sam yell at him, but the bastard can’t say anything when sometimes, he makes Bucky look at his wounds instead of going through the same process.

When he gets to the kitchen, Natasha is already waiting for him there, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed.

She’s starting to look like Steve, only more subtle in many ways when that man would’ve just given out disappointment like waves of radiation. It makes Bucky snort out indignantly, and Natasha arches her brows at this.

She nods towards the dining table, and it’s then Bucky notices the first-aid kit on the counter. “I’ll have a look at that.”

Bucky looks at her for a moment, before following what she says as he drags out the chair with his foot and slumps down on it. “Where’s Steve?”

“He’s out to get some groceries,” She helps him with his jacket and shirt as they get them off him, all while he tries not to wince at the strain it puts on the wound as it gushes out more blood. “Made noises about how he was going to make lunch before you get back.”

“When did you come here?” Bucky grunts out when she starts cleaning it.

“A week after you left.” She looks up from her place on the other chair. “You were gone for almost three weeks. The longest you’ve gone on a mission without contact. He was starting to lose his mind.”

He gives out a breathless laugh and makes himself relax. It’s easier to unlock his tense shoulders these days, as opposed to when he bit the leash off all those years ago. “You don’t have to justify yourself in wanting to spend time with him, y’know.”

“I’m not,” she says airily, dressing the wound next. “I’m telling you what I saw when I got here. I’m surprised he hasn’t turned over the furniture yet.”

“He has a lil’ more self-control sometimes.”

“When it comes to you?” She pulls out a needle and a thread. “All those years with him made me realise it’s his way or the highway whenever he has you in mind.”

“He’s a psychopath that way.” The alcohol she swabs on him numbs some of the pain as she starts stitching him up. “I tried to tell him that, but he insists he’s trying to save me from some batshit nonsense that’s currently going on.”

“You do tend to get into situations where he’d have to play knight in shining armour,” She’s teasing, it shows when she glances at him for a reaction. “How does it feel to be a princess in a tower? Speaking as a Romanoff, I never get that.”

“That’s funny,” he drawls. “I never got over how the last Czar was your uncle twice removed or something.”

“You remember that,” She twists her mouth to the side, eyes on her work. “What else did you remember about me?”

It’s a bait, and Bucky’s willing to take it head on.

“You’ve been here for a long time,” he tells her. “You’re like me.”

She chuckles. “James, I’m like you because you taught me to follow you.”

“Well now, I can’t take all the credit, can I?” He says dryly. She makes a noncommittal noise. “I only made you see that putting down someone bigger than you takes a lil’ twisting. The rest of what you did was all whatever those bastards wanted you to do.”

“You keep telling yourself that?” She asks, not ruthless for no reason, but it’s something they’re both familiar with and they’re allowed to talk about it. They’ve both been used, after all.

“When I want to,” Bucky says, and she’s already covering up the closed wound with a bandage. “Sometimes, I have help. And, I know he helps you in that too.”

Natasha lets her hands linger on the tapes, brushing lightly on his shoulder, and she’s not looking away when he watches her then. This time, she catches him doing it, unabashedly as he is. “You remember something else, don’t you?”

“Not much.” Bucky takes a breath. “But it’s enough.”

“Tell me.” She demands.

When Bucky stares at her, something constricts almost painfully in his chest. “ _I loved you once_ , _Natalia_ ,” he confesses; it makes her pull her hands away from him. “ _I remember that much_.”

 _“That was a long time ago,”_ she murmurs, eyes searching his face. _“We were,”_ she hesitates, wetting her lips. _“We were something.”_

 _“We were everything to each other,”_ Bucky corrects her quietly. _“Among the horrible things we’ve done, we found each other. We lived instead of surviving, for once. They had to seperate us for that.”_

 _“They took you away from me,”_ Natasha whispers. “They made us forget. It was hell, James, I remember that after I looked into your files. Not only did they make me do what they want again, but they made me forget about you.” 

She remembers and he doesn’t; it must be killing her just recalling this. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, because that’s all he can say for now. “I’m sorry you had to go through it alone.”

“Not anymore,” Natasha says, standing up to clean up the mess she made. “I have the Avengers, I have Steve.” She pulls out a pot from a cabinet and fills it with water, before she puts it on the stove and switches on the fire. To sterilise the needle, perhaps. “Now that you’re back, I have you.”

When she’s near him again to pack back the first-aid, Bucky touches her wrist with his right hand. “You and Steve have been talking about me, about the three of _us_. And,” He releases a breath. “And I want it, too.”

She looks down at the touch, her expression impassive. “Are you sure?”

“Do you love me?”

She jerks her head up. “That’s not a fair question. You know the answer to that already.”

It makes him lose some air at that. “Honestly, I don’t.”

“Liar,” she says this as a fact, but her eyes soften as she takes him in, all in his greasy and sooted glory. “You know.”

He lifts his chin. “Tell me again.” 

She huffs out a puff of laughter, and then she’s cupping his cheek with a palm, gentle and considerate, and yes, that’s familiar too. “I’ve been waiting for you to remember what we had,” she says instead. “And I want Steve to spend it with us.”

“That’s ‘cause you love him too,” He lets her thumb brush against the beard that’s starting to grow. 

“Yes,” she admits quietly. “I didn’t want that to be the cause of him abandoning you, though.”

“I’m gonna tell you what I told Steve the other day,” He doesn’t let go of her gaze from where he’s still seated, head tilted back. “His heart has always been big enough for the two of us, just like mine is for the both of you. I’m just hoping you’d have some space for two supersoldiers too.”

“More than enough,” she agrees.

He releases the heavy stone of relief with a gust of breath, and then he’s silently asking for permission in the slight tug of her hand. That’s all it takes when she easily steps into his space while his arms wind around her waist.

She combs her fingers through his hair when he buries his nose into her front, smelling the detergent on her shirt that it’s similar to Steve’s and his own. It smells like _home_ , and when she bends down to press a kiss onto the crown of his head, he knows they are where they should be.

When Steve comes home some time later, he finds the both of them on the couch, Bucky already wearing a clean shirt from where he’s laid down with Natasha sprawled on top of him. Steve stops at the doorway, several paper bags of groceries crowding his arms. He looks on the verge of crying when Bucky peeks around red hair. “Yeah?” Steve croaks out.

“Yeah,” Bucky affirms softly, smiling when Steve simply dumps the groceries on the nearest coffee table and kneels beside them. Natasha lets out a tinkle of laughter when she meets Steve’s outstretched hand with her own. “Just a bunch of old assholes deciding to get together.”

“Speak for yourself,” Natasha jibes, but she’s getting smothered with Steve’s kisses like Bucky is, her nose wrinkling at the onslaught. “You’re both still older than me.”

Steve laughs wetly. “Yeah. God, you were gone for so long,” he mumbles against Bucky’s forehead, clutching onto his shoulder that Bucky is immediately drowning in his desperation. “I was waiting, and waiting. I couldn’t even call you.”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky murmurs, dragging his fingers up Steve’s skull before pulling him closer, his nose pressing into his cheek. “Too many casualties were happening. We had to lay low for a while.”

“Yeah,” Steve exhales heavily, and then he leans back just enough to look at Natasha, who’s been watching their interaction with almost a curious expression. Steve grins at her. “What did I tell you, huh?”

She rolls her eyes, her cheek on Bucky’s chest from where she’s settled nicely on him. “Don’t push it.”

“Told you we’d fit like a puzzle,” Steve continues gleefully, rubbing a thumb over her knuckles. 

“Don’t you have groceries to keep?”

“Only if you’re gonna help me,” Steve takes another moment to simply stare at them, and he looks as dopey as Bucky feels when they’re all together like this. Steve leans forward to peck both of their temples before he stands up. “I’m making lasagna.”

“We’ll get up in just a minute,” Bucky promises, but Natasha’s gazing at him from where she rightens herself properly so that her chin is on his sternum, her hand spread idly against his ribs. 

He offers her a smile. What he gets in response is a kiss at the corner of his lips, and it lights him up at how tender it feels against his skin that he can only watch her with wide eyes as she pushes herself off him.

She takes in his look and lets one corner of her mouth jump up. She doesn’t wait for him when she goes after Steve, who also freezes under the kiss she plants on the same place she’s given Bucky. She taps his chin before moving away. “You boys have any wine?”

When Steve swings a wild look at Bucky, he can’t help but show a row of grinning teeth in response.


End file.
